


axis shifted (worlds in flight)

by moth_writes



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Visiting, Getting Together, M/M, Oblivious and Pining Simon Snow, POV Simon Snow, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 16:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth_writes/pseuds/moth_writes
Summary: When Baz gets spelled during a fight, it's obvious it's an infatuation spell....isn't it?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 110





	axis shifted (worlds in flight)

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a fic from another fandom. And then it spiraled into this, so.
> 
> Featuring completely Simon's POV, Penny cracking the case, and a lot of my magical theory rambling.
> 
> Eternal thanks to Pati on discord for whipping this into readable shape! You were a massive help, thank you for putting up with my ramblings and inability to use em-dashes! <3

SIMON

I watch him go down.

We're outside, fighting a couple of rogue were—mages. They're feral—it happens to some of the more powerful ones when they get the bite. The magic of the curse tries to take them over, and when their own fights back—well. It isn't pretty. Drives them mad, most of the time, if it doesn't raise their temperature enough to boil them from the inside out. (I never want to see someone die like that again). (Magic is energy, and energy means heat. It's why I always run hot.)

These ones are still sane enough to use spells, and they're throwing them with as much force as they can. There's so much magic in the air that it feels like fog, like thick and humid electricity.

Baz is next to me, fighting the one with the bones that snap when she moves. I've just taken down the one I'm fighting when I hear a shout and a bang, and there’s a flash of light that nearly blinds me.

I turn, and Baz is down. The were—mage is standing over him, wand drawn and staring at him with a twisted snarl.

I yell and charge and cut through her like butter, falling to pieces with a few quick swings. She smiles, then, (what's left of her) and I almost think she sighs in relief.

I don't stay to make sure she's dead. I scoop Baz up, lever him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry and run for the Infirmary.

I don't like Baz, but he can't die yet.

…

I pace the hall outside the Infirmary doors.

It's been almost forty minutes and Baz is still in there. I don't know what spell the were—mage used, but Baz didn't even twitch the entire time I was carrying him. He didn’t stir when I laid him on the bed, either, or the entire time Nurse was patching me up.

Penny is sitting against the wall to my right with her Poli Sci textbook open in her lap. She isn't reading, though—she's been staring at me for the last five minutes or so.

I recognize her look. She's chewing on her lip idly and the rest of her is almost unnaturally still, the way she always is when she's trying to work something out. 

I collapse next to her and Penny shifts to put her head on my shoulder. I lean my head back and stare up at the high ceilings.

I don't know what's wrong with Baz and it's killing me. I need to see him.

I followed him out to the Woods. I thought I would catch him meeting some poor innocent to drain them dry, but all he did was sit in the shade and read. He talked to the dryad at the edge, but he does sometimes and none of those conversations are worth anything. Just weather and classes and plant shite.

It must be another ten minutes before the infirmary doors open and Nurse looks out at us. (Watford only has the one, and she's been here as long as anyone can remember. No name that anyone knows, either, just “Nurse.”) (Some claim she's made of magic and bound to the school, but Penny says she's just a humanoid magickal creature. And she looks human, really, except for the ram’s horns sprouting from her head.)

She looks at me and Penny waiting and opens the doors wider. "Come along, then," she says, gesturing shortly.

I jump to my feet and pull Penny up behind me. Nurse points and I almost run, only just keeping to a fast walk.

Baz is sitting up in his bed, hair pulled back and heavy bags under his eyes.

I look at him.

He looks at me.

I open my mouth to—I don't know. Do something, say something.

He beats me to it. "Snow," he says, "you have the plainest eyes I’ve ever seen and it should _not_ be so attractive.”

I stop dead and stare. Behind me, Penny makes a noise like a choking cat. Baz is frozen, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.

Nurse sighs. “An infatuation spell, then. I do so hate those.”

“Shit,” I breathe. Nurse gives me a look that says _“Language, Mr. Snow_.”

Baz is still looking at me, and when he speaks again I understand it even less. “Bronze and gold and blue, curls and freckles and eyes” he mutters. I blink.

“What?” I say. Baz groans and drops his head into his hands.

There’s been infatuation spells cast at Watford before. The lesser ones aren’t illegal—Penny complains about that every time they come up—and every Valentine's Day half the school casts them.

They wear off quickly, though, and don’t do any harm. Spells can’t force you to do anything you don’t truly want to, thankfully.

Unless you’re powerful—or disciplined—enough for your will to overpower someone else’s. It’s never happened to me, but Penny had an experience with it a few years ago with a sphinx. She hated it, and so did I. (She still flinches when anybody mentions anything about mind control and loss of will.) (She’s frightfully independent, and it was horrible for her. Would be for anybody really.)

I look at Baz. He’s still holding his head in his hands, legs tucked up. I’ve never seen him look so... _vulnerable_ before. I kind of hate it.

“Mr. Pitch,” Nurse says. She always sounds like she already knows the answer and is just waiting for you to confirm it. “Do you remember which spell it was?”

“No,” Baz tells her. “It was too loud and the were-mage was too quiet. I didn't catch anything.”

Nurse nods. “Alright then. I’ll need you to stay overnight at the very least, for testing and observation.” She waits for Baz to nod before turning to me and Penny.

“Mr. Snow, Ms. Bunce,” she says, “you may leave. You are excused from the rest of today’s classes. I recommend a good meal and a long nap, Mr. Snow.”

We go, and it’s a long night without Baz’s breathing filling the room.

…

I visit Baz again the next day after classes let out.

He’s sat in bed with his textbook open, but he sets it aside when I stop at the end of his bed.

“Hey, Baz,” I say. Awkwardly. It’s strange seeing him here.

“Snow,” he says coolly. “Come to embarrass me more?”

“No!” I say, too loudly. “Just...wanted to see if you’re okay, is all.”

“I’m fine, Snow. And that’s rather sweet of you, if it’s true. Actually, no. I’m not fine, because of this stupid spell.” He scowls, pained.

He called me sweet. In a strange, roundabout Baz—way. 

I think I ate lunch too fast before this. That’s the only possible explanation for the odd fluttering feeling in my stomach. I ignore it.

“Why would a were-mage love-spell you?” I ask. It’s been bothering me all night.

“ _Infatuation_ spell,” he corrects. “And I have about as much idea as you do, Snow, though it pains me to admit it.”

“Penny is in the library,” I tell him. “She’s going to bring the books to you tonight.”

“Thank Crowley,” Baz says, then “She’s the only one I trust to be smart about this.” He frowns. I guess he didn’t mean to say that.

He’s right, though. Penny has the best chance of all of us of tracking down how to fix this.

Then I realize what he said, and— “Wait, I thought you were in love—infatuated, whatever—with me?”

“I am, Snow, but Bunce has a good head for this,” he says absently. I freeze, but Baz doesn’t seem to notice what he’s just said.

In love with me? 

I know it’s just from the spell, but my insides are curling up and my heart is pounding. I don’t know why—since when do I react like this? And to Baz, specifically?

I sit heavily at the end of his bed and he looks at me neutrally.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Snow? Shouldn’t you be off bothering her?” Baz says, and it’s more civil than I ever thought he could be.

“We broke up, Baz. Weeks ago.”

“Oh.” We’re silent again. I don’t like this.

“When can you come back to the room?” I blurt. He furrows his brows, tapping his long fingers on his textbook.

“It’s not contagious and I can still control my actions, so tonight,” he says. “Maybe. As long as nothing goes downhill in the next few hours.”

“Right,” I say. We’re silent, and it’s almost friendly.

I don’t know what this is.

I don’t think I want to. (I do.)

…

Baz does come back to our room that night.

He’s there when I get back from the library with a stack of books from Penny. I dump them on my desk and look at him.

Baz smiles and it’s sharp and crooked. “What’ve you got there, Snow?” he asks.

“Books,” I say, tossing one at him. He catches it easily. _“Truth Spells, Inhibition Suppressors, and Infatuation Curses: Spells of Influence and the Mind, volume four_.” He looks at me and I shrug. I don’t know why Penny gave me half the books she did, just that she thought they’d be useful.

“Well then, Snow,” Baz says, “Better start reading.”

…

It’s almost eleven at night when Baz sets the book down and yawns.

I’m glad it’s a Friday. We can stay up as late as we need to. 

I groan and stretch, leaning back. I’m on Baz bed—much to his annoyance—and there’s books scattered on the floor around us.

Baz sticks his feet out and rests them on my stomach. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “I’ve always thought you were shaped nicely in the later months—using you as a footrest wouldn't be so pleasant when you’re all skin and sticks.”

I ignore the burn in my chest and sputter, pretending to be offended. “Baz! I am more than skin and sticks, thank you very much.”

“You are _now_ , you idiot,” he drawls. “Not in September.”

I surrender, because he’s right. I am just skin and bone in September, before I gain it back. I remember the start of term and I want to ask why he came to school late and limping.

I don’t. I don’t want to ruin whatever this is. (It feels like balancing glass.) (Fragile and strange and beautiful.)

I just laugh and shove Baz’s feet off of me, and I don’t think about how soft his skin is. 

We don’t do any more research that night. (I don’t care.) (We have time.)

…

I lie in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. Baz is next to me, tucked away in his bed and snoring softly. I look at him, at the angles and shadows of his face in the moonlight.

We made a truce.

Baz and me, together. Allies. Working towards a common goal, as Penny would say.

I remember the roughness of his hand in mine, the coolness of it, the way his magic washed over me like flames when he cast the bond.

I remember his smile, wild and toothy, and the way he’s been flinging compliments like darts. 

Now, I watch Baz breath and think, this is better than fighting. (I think Baz thinks so too.) (I hope so.)

…

Almost two weeks pass before we find the solution.

It’s Penny who realizes we’ve been looking in the wrong places. We thought we should search infatuation spells because of what Baz said when he saw me. He wouldn’t say anything nice to me willingly, so it seemed obvious.

But Penny isn’t one for obvious, and she’s nothing if not thorough. She found the book in the stack her parents sent, and came running up to our room. Baz and I had been sitting on the floor, just talking in the new way we couldn’t before.

Penny had slammed the book down, flipping to a marked page. “Read,” she commanded, pushing it towards Baz.

He read silently, then passed the book to me. I took it and skimmed over the highlighted section.

_“Although rare and only able to be cast when under duress and with understanding of the numerous magickal and linguistic theory shifts during the sixteenth century, the Living Truth curse is an extremely powerful compulsion. The affected mage is compelled to share their every thought, with the intention to ruin or cause trouble and doubt. When first cast, the spell appears very similar to a common_ _—and illegal—_ _infatuation spell. The only difference is a flash of gold when cast, rather than red, and the subsequent unconsciousness of the victim, which typically lasts between ten and fifteen minutes. The spell was created by Sir Wilhelm Vengard in 1678, when he cast against opposing family leader Sir…”_

It all fit. 

It wasn’t an infatuation spell.

It was a _truth spell_. One that reduced inhibitions too, according to Penny. It would explain a lot of Baz’s behaviour, but not the complimenting me.

I looked at Baz, and he looked at me, and I felt that strange fluttering feeling in my chest again. I recognized it now, though. I knew what it was.

Baz looked away. I did, too.

This revelation was too new, right now. And with Penny there, I couldn’t do what my heart told me to 

It had to wait until after Baz was cured. I didn’t want him to have to tell me his thoughts, not now that we knew.

“I’m going to get tea,” I’d said, handing the book back to Penny. “It’ll help us think.”

I didn’t let myself think about it. It felt wrong, somehow, to think about Baz that way—romantically, like anything other than an enemy—while he was still spelled.

The fix is easy. I sit outside the room, holding the scones and tea, so I don’t know the details—I’m too worked up, and my leaking magic would be bad for the spell—but Penny was right. She always is.

It was a truth spell.

Everything Baz said was the truth.

I have some thinking to do and some decisions to make.

…

I don’t plan. I’m no good at it, anyway.

When Penny opens the door I jump to my feet, handing her the tray. She takes it, smiling tiredly, and brushes her free hand over my shoulder. I don’t wait to watch her go, turning to baz immediately.

“What, Snow?” he drawls. He won’t meet my eyes. “Want to embarrass me now? Too kind to do it when we thought it was an infatuation spell, but now you know it wasn’t, I’m fair game, right?” He strides over to his desk, sitting with a casual air that I know is fake.

I follow, coming to stand next to him. He’s still sitting back from his desk and there’s enough room for me to lean over him.

I smile and he falters. 

“No,” I say. “But. I’ve been thinking, Baz.”

“Dangerous,” he says. It’s thin and absent and I think he said it more on reflex than anything, so I ignore it.

“Yes,” I say. “Baz. I want this.”

“Want what?”

“This.” I gesture between us. “Us. Like we have been, except. Always.”

“You’re confused, Snow,” Baz says, turning his head away and closing his eyes. 

“I’m not,” I insist. He won’t look at me. I touch his cheek and he finally turns, looking at me warily. “I’m not lying,” I say again.

“You’re Simon Snow,” Baz says. “The Chosen One. You have your golden destiny all laid out, all you have to do is take it. I’m just your roommate, your enemy. I’ll be gone soon enough.”

“What?” I say, alarmed. “No, Baz, you won’t. I’m not killing you, and I’m not following what everyone wants me to. I’ll defeat the Humdrum—because that’s my fight, that’s my destiny—but I’m not...I won’t...” I trail off. I don’t know what else to say.

Baz sighs. “You’re still the Mage’s Heir, Simon. Still the Chosen One.”

He’s not getting it. I growl and he closes his eyes again. “I don’t want that, Baz, and I won’t do it. I’ve told you.”

“What do you want, then?”

“This,” I say and the conviction in my voice must finally get through to him. “I want this, Baz, like we have been. Like the truce, but real.”

“Like friends?” he says, almost desperately. “If we aren’t enemies, that’s all we could be.”

“No,” I tell him. “Not friends. There’s another option, Baz.”

“Is there?”

I say, “I’m a terrible boyfriend. I know that much.”

“I could’ve guessed that myself, Snow.”

“Simon.”

“Simon.” Baz says, rolling his eyes.

“I want to be your terrible boyfriend,” I say. I don’t think he’d get it otherwise. He’s trying to dance around this, and I won’t let him.

“For how long?” he asks, and I think he’s finally starting to catch on. I’m serious, more than I ever have been, and I want him to know it.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

“Always,” Baz breathes, soft and hopeful and nothing like I’ve ever seen him before.

And then _he_ kisses _me_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I couldn't fit this into the fic itself, so I'm going to dump more of my magicial theory hcs here. I don't remember anything about transformations in canon, so it's free real estate!
> 
> More magical theory rambling, because I want to: Vampirism and were curses are different. In mages, the vampire curse/mutation binds with the magic already present and transforms the mage from the inside out. 
> 
> It’s the same idea with normals, but since there’s no magic to bind with, the curse alters their genetics and functions essentially the same. 
> 
>   
> With were transformations, the curse is rougher and takes over the mage’s magic, instead of working with it (like the difference between a working together in a truce, which is more or less peaceful, and surrendering after a battle, which is more rough and bloody.) 
> 
> The were curse mutates the genetic code, which (if it's a mage) will be protected by magic. If the mage’s magic is strong enough, it will fight the curse and that eventually either kills the mage (more likely) or rips away their magic (less likely with stronger mages, but with weaker mages it happens sometimes). With normals, animals, and less powerful mages the curse takes over easily (still painfully) and transforms them. These don’t die from the transformation, but it’s fairly likely that they still die, because of wounds sustained beforehand.


End file.
